


Life's Not a Game

by vogue91



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Battle of Hogwarts, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Introspection, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 12:20:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13166790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vogue91/pseuds/vogue91
Summary: “If we think we’re going to be defeated, then we’ll lose. We’ve got to find till the last second, till there are still Gryffindors on the broomstick, then the match won’t be lost.”Over the top, as Fred and George loved to point out. And yet in that moment I reminded those words again and again, thinking I was mocked for them, though they started to make sense that very second.





	Life's Not a Game

_[The hour has begun_

_Your eyes have now opened_

_To a world where madness craves]_

Leaving Hogwarts had been strange.

It was the end of an era, a door opened on the unknown, on a future that I didn’t know I could face. Millions of possibilities, of doubts and of uncertainties crowded my mind.

I was sure of just one thing: I would’ve gone back to my school someday, the one that had been my home for seven years, which had showed me the path to take; I would’ve paid tribute to it, as in a sort of pilgrimage.

Though, I would’ve never thought of coming back here in such a circumstance.

I would’ve never thought to see so much fear in the eyes of the students, for whom this was supposed to be a place to protect them, to keep them safe from any danger.

And yet now, three years after I had left, Hogwarts had a wolf in the herd, it had become the cornerstone of evil itself.

The battle was upon us, and we were ready to fight for what we’d always believed in, for what had made us grow and made us the people we were that day.

Freedom.

Teachers, students, friends, allies. They all looked in each other’s eyes as if that was the last chance to do it.

We had chosen the path of madness, of violence and of war, because even though we liked to call ourselves the good ones, we weren’t willing to bend in front of a single man, mad even more than we were.

I closed my eyes briefly, and when I opened them again it seem as it the surrounding view had changed, like a sort of surrendered calm was permeating the school’s walls, floors, ceilings. People. All those who were going to fight, probably to die, most of whom had seen too many winters.

Or too few, I though watching Colin Creevey.

That night there was no certain fate, but it seemed like no one cared. We were different from them, we weren’t fighting for supremacy, but for an ideal. And this is what I read in the eyes of those around me.

And I was sure it was written on mine as well.

 

_[To a world where hope’s enslaved_

_Oh, I’ll tremble for my love always]_

We were there for love. For what Dumbledore had always preached strongly, for what those troops of Death Eaters ready to crush us like ants lacked.

Maybe we didn’t have numbers on our part, nor the weapons or the hope usually left even to the sentenced to death. But all we had gone through within those walls was making us go on, as if we had nothing to lose.

I looked briefly at professor McGonagall, and I thought I saw a smile on her face, faltering. Despite all, I smiled as well.

I thought about Quidditch practises, about all I’ve always told my players.

_“If we think we’re going to be defeated, then we’ll lose. We’ve got to find till the last second, till there are still Gryffindors on the broomstick, then the match won’t be lost.”_

Over the top, as Fred and George loved to point out. And yet in that moment I reminded those words again and again, thinking I was mocked for them, though they started to make sense that very second.

I shivered at the thought of all those people facing bravely their destinies. There was no more distinction among Houses, there were no O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s, there were no grades nor lesson.

There was just the spirit of hundreds of wizards and witches which finally thinking as one, convinced of what they were about to do.

That was the school we knew, that was its soul, that for the first time was embodied in an entity capable of scaring the darkest of forces.

_“We just need to believe we can make it, then we will never be defeated.”_

When the battle started there was no room anymore for thoughts, just for action and the desire to take back what had been ripped violently off of us.

Curses rained on us like in a macabre storm, and we were still standing, unaware of the fear and death on the faces of those abomination that were the Death Eaters.

 

_[Your window, opened wide_

_Your innocence takes flight]_

_“If you fall from your broomstick, get back on it. And if you’re hurt, you will be for a right cause!”_

When I saw Colin Creevey’s lifeless body it was like the world had stopped turning for a single, atrocious instant.

His eyes wide open, his face crystalized in a grim display of death. I got closer almost on instinct, and it seemed to me like his features had lost the youth and innocence that were there a few mere seconds before.

Or at least that’s what I wanted to believe, in a constant denial to believe that death had taken yet another unripe life.

I dragged him away to get him back some dignity, for I didn’t want to let him at the mercy of the vultures flying through the school hidden by masks and cloaks, too coward to brave that cruelty with their faces in the open.

For the first time that night, I felt demoralized. Everyone who was at Hogwarts that night was ready to face their own death in order to defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

Not that of others.

When I went back in the middle of the battle and I saw all that death, all that strong desperation, anguish turned quickly to rage.

I cast curses, ferociously, trying to focus on the goal.

 _“When risking, the chance to score grows._ You don’t _have to be afraid to risk it.”_

An Avada Kedavra was cast close to me, and I saw the sparkles almost touching me, missing their goal. I looked at the Death Eater responsible and I stunned him, fast.

I didn’t see anyone else around me, so I looked to see if I could help someone.

Delirium. Madness. Acre smell of death.

A chaos where I didn’t have time to think, just to move.

I kept repeating to myself that it was just like Quidditch, but even to me it seemed unreal.

It wasn’t Quidditch, it wasn’t a match. It was a life still worth living, even though not of all us may have had the chance to do it, not after that night.

Many of us may have come out of it unmarked.

But it was impossible for the mind to stay the same.

 

_[To a world where madness craves_

_To a world where hope’s enslaved]_

_“Oh come on, Oliver, relax! It’s just a match!”_

He always said that to me. And I got mad, I screamed, I ranted.

But maybe, sometimes, he was right. And I wouldn’t have had another chance to tell him.

“Fred!”

A scream torn the air, and all seemed to go slower.

I can’t move, I stay still with my eyes on the floor, where he laid.

So stupid, Fred. So brave, so careless, so damn fun.

A smile stains his face, one of the most macabre things I could’ve seen. The smile he had welcomed death with.

I see his brothers getting closer. Cries, screams, rage. And I... I felt that crying didn’t make sense anymore.

There’s nothing we can do, there’s no revenge to soothe the anger, the frustration.

The desire of doing something fighting strenuously with the awareness that it’s too late. I grit my teeth and I went on, as everybody else. We went on knowing that his will be a death to cry later, when we would’ve been sure to have survived.

 

_[It’s a world where madness craves_

_It’s a world where hope’s enslaved]_

It’s a world where madness craves.

It’s a world where hope’s enslaved.

A world that would’ve become new at dawn, leaving behind a bitter wake of memories.

Surprised, I found myself laughing. It was all ironic, macabre, pointless. We all knew we would’ve cried someone, but no one was actually ready for what had happened.

And we stayed there, stupid as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named called us, we kept fighting in order not to make vain those deaths, to dedicate them a victory than seemed further than ever.

 

_[Oh, I’ll tremble for my love, always]_

And yet, there was still hope permeating our eyes, that insane desire for all to start going the right way.

Everybody trusted the one next to them, a friend or a stranger, as they felt the weirdest feeling of protection toward them.

We were, maybe for the first time, the family Dumbledore had so desired for us to be. When he said that help would’ve always been given at Hogwarts to those who asked for it, he was bloody right.

That night we were all there, _screaming_ how right he was.

Hogwarts had a soul protecting it.

And that night, that soul was us.


End file.
